MUSIC SCENE: Chris Hillman finds satisfaction in his musical legacy

Chris Hillman, an original member of The Byrds, who went on to found the Flying Burrito Brothers with Gram Parsons, will be at this weekend's Joe Val Bluegrass Festival at the Framingham Sheraton.

By Jay N. MIllerFor The Patriot Ledger

All these years later, Chris Hillman is not just flattered by all the young bands his music has influenced, he sees it as fulfilling a duty.

Hillman, an original member of The Byrds, who went on to found the Flying Burrito Brothers with Gram Parsons, will be at this weekend's Joe Val Bluegrass Festival at the Framingham Sheraton, where his reunited Desert Rose Band performs a 5:15 p.m. set Saturday.

We were chatting about the Spindle City Americana Fest, which the Narrows Center in Fall River had staged last year, as a salute to Parsons featuring a panoply of area bands that play more or less in that style. The bands did at least one Parsons tune, and one of their own.

"Something like that is more meaningful to me – and I know this is how David Crosby and Roger McGuinn feel also – than the money we made," said Hillman. "It is far more meaningful to leave a legacy. It's a pathway for others to follow. I sure followed a lot of others, like Pete Seeger, and in my case, I was even more influenced by his brother Mike Seeger. All I wanted was to be able to play music like they did, and the music we made, what we wrote, and how it might continue and expand the music, far outweighs having a big bank account."

"I didn't get into music for the money, and I don't think any of us did," Hillman added. "People don't realize, but The Byrds were nominated for a Grammy in '65, and the ceremony wasn't even televised back then. We lost out to Tom Jones and "It's Not Unusual." But none of that part of the business made any sense to me – we just wanted to play music."

The way some of the music he made with The Byrds, the Flying Burrito Brothers, and his own Desert Rose Band has not just endured, but permeated much of today's music scene, provides a deep sense of satisfaction.

"I do love the fact that Americana music is growing and growing," said Hillman from his Ventura, California home. "I think it is a partly a reaction, as music from the other end of the spectrum becomes more smoke and whistles. Like the Super Bowl halftime show; I loved Bruno Mars and the way he carries on the Motown tradition, but there's so much production in that type of show. Americana is at the other end of the spectrum, and I love the way bands like Mumford & Sons, or The Avett Brothers incorporate roots music into the songs they're writing today."

"Looking back at The Byrds, we're proud that a good percentage of what we put out was good music," said Hillman. "But Turn, Turn, Turn," which became our signature tune, was one we didn't even write – Pete Seeger did. And in 1965 or '66, right after it was a hit, Pete wrote us a letter, praising us. 'You Byrds,' it read, 'you did a real good job, and never sacrificed the integrity of the song.' And then he signed it, as he always did, with a little banjo figure. Roger McGuinn still has that letter, and that meant more to us than all the money we got from that song."

Hillman had been 20 when The Byrds took off, and by 1968 he and McGuinn were the only two original members left. Parsons joined them for the seminal "Sweetheart of the Rodeo" album that year, and by the next year, Hillman and Parsons had left to try an even more country-tinged rock band, the Flying Burrito Brothers.

That band debuted with the stunning "Gilded Palace of Sin," and followed it with 1970's superb "Burrito Deluxe," but by then Parsons was losing focus. Hillman would lead the Burritos through two more albums with his partner, while Parsons recorded his solo stuff, before dying tragically and passing into legend status. But while the Flying Burrito Brothers are cited as progenitors of the whole Americana and alt-country movement today, back then they were scufflin' to make ends meet as often as not.

"My only regret is that, for that one-year period of time, Gram and I wrote some darned good songs," said Hillman. "People like Emmylou Harris and Dwight Yoakam have continued to do those songs through the years. I can remember Gram and I wrote the song 'Sin City' in 35 minutes one day, and that kind of thing is just a blessing. The problem was, we got lazy. With The Byrds, we kept improving and by the time we finished, we had progressed to the point where we were competent enough musicians to do something like "Eight Miles High." The Flying Burrito Brothers were seen as this band of outlaws, and we all just got too loose and easy with the music – we never got any better."

Hillman has never stepped away from the music world for long, and shortly after the Burritos ran out of gas, he joined Stephen Still's Manassas, where he stayed until about 1973. He then joined with songsmith J.D.Souther and Poco's Richie Furay for the Souther-Hillman-Furay Band, which released two fine albums over the next few years. By '75 he was playing with McGuinn and former original Byrd Gene Clark in the McGuinn-Clark-Hillman Band, which released two albums. He and McGuinn then did an album as a duo in 1979.

Following some solo records, Hillman founded The Desert Rose Band in 1985 with guitar/banjo ace Herb Pedersen, and guitar/mandolin/dobro virtuoso John Jorgenson. The DRB's eponymous debut in 1987 yielded the No. 1 country hit "He's Back and I'm Blue," as well as "Ashes of Love, " and "Time Between," the latter an old Byrds song penned by Hillman. DRB's sophomore album "Running" in 1988 produced a hit with John Hiatt's "She Don't Love Nobody." DRB released three more albums before disbanding in 1994. But during the band's heyday, Jorgenson had been cited as the Academy of Country Music's Guitar Player of the Year three separate times, which is even more impressive when you remember Hillman and Pedersen are pretty dazzling guitarists too.

Hillman and Pedersen began performing as an acoustic duo more than a decade ago, and by 2008 there was a full-flung Desert Rose Band reunion, with all six original members. They've continued to play occasional band gigs, although most of their work is still acoustic. This weekend's appearance will be an acoustic trio performance featuring the three frontmen – Hillman, Pedersen and Jorgenson.

Hillman and his cohorts have continued to write and record new music, but on their own labels, and with different groupings.

"I usually work in a duo format with Herb," Hillman pointed out, "but this weekend will be with John along too, so we'll put more emphasis on the material we've done together."

"Desert Rose Band now is totally a labor of love," Hillman noted. "We've never discussed our future plans, beyond one or two shows, since the first reunion. It was the only group I was in where we all left as friends. The other bands always fell apart due to some adversity, but the Desert Rose guys are still all friends. We're bringing the whole six-piece over to Norway in July for a festival show, and so far we haven't thought beyond that. John also plays in his own bluegrass band, with Jon Randall, so we all keep busy with various projects."

Last week's celebration of the 50th anniversary of The Beatles taking America by storm provoked some warm memories of Hillman's own youth five decades back, and how much the Moptops put a charge into the whole music scene.

"I saw that 50-year Beatles thing and I realized I have been playing music professionally since 1963," said Hillman. "I met Herb Pedersen back then, when we were both 18, 51 years ago, because we both loved bluegrass. He played with a duo from Arkansas, and I was in a band called The Golden State Boys, with Vern and Rex Gosdin, from Kentucky. We both cut our teeth playing with the real guys who grew up on that music. And you don't have to come from Kentucky to play good bluegrass, because we were all aware of Joe Val in New England, and loved his music back then, too.

"We all owe The Beatles a huge debt," Hillman added. "They ignited the whole music community, and changed the whole conception of what it could be. The way they could say something musically that was familiar and yet unique at the same time, and so uplifting. Coming here when they did, so soon after President Kennedy had been assassinated, I've always said that what they really did is, they healed us."

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